The Art of Dancing
by TheBeanMonster
Summary: A wonderful, glittering swirl of colours glides by. It such a perfect scene that it's just bizarre. Dances aren't supposed to be that perfect, there's something wrong with this picture. Part of my entry to Huffle's Twelve Fics of Christmas Challenge.


This is part of the Twelve Fics of Christmas challenge which has been organised by TheOriginalHufflepuff.

This is based on the 'Dance' prompt, number one.

Three down, nine to go.

Enjoy!

* * *

**The Art of Dancing**

I watch her go off and dance with Dean. I'm okay with it though, I told her to. There was no point for her to spend all night dancing with me, I'd only break her toes. Plus, I don't think Dean had a date. She looks over at me and smiles brightly. I smile and I wave back. She's having a good time, which I suppose is great. My only problem is that I feel like I got all dressed up for no reason.

I watch as she glides across the other side of the room with Dean. It's sort of graceful. Dancing is a very precise art. It is sort of like magic, I suppose, but I don't think I'd ever be able to learn how to dance.

"Hi, Neville."

I spin around to see someone sitting next to me.

"Hi, Hannah."

She's sitting there, right next to me, in pretty robes of forest green velvet. Her blond hair, that's usually always in pig-tails, is swept back neatly in a gleaming pearl clasp. Her cheeks are pink, as always.

"You look really nice," I say to her, blushing.

She blushes too. "Thankyou," she says quietly.

"Have you been dancing?" I ask her.

"No," she replies simply. "I didn't have a partner."

"Oh." I feel embarassed.

She seems to catch the look on my face. "Oh, it's okay, Neville," she says, "I didn't ask anyone. I'm not exactly a dancing kind of person... I can't dance."

I laugh. "Me neither," I admit. "I asked Ginny to come but I almost broke her toes when I was dancing with her. She's dancing with Dean now. I told her to."

"Oh," says Hannah.

"I think she's having a better time, though," I add.

Hannah nods but says nothing. We sit for a while - ten minutes it feels - and we watch as a great, big, glittering swirl of colours float past. All the girls seems as if they're just skimming across the Great Hall floor with perfect, elegant postures. The boys are holding them gently and gentlemanly and occasionally twirl their partners then bring them back towards them, all in swift graceful movements. It's a strange, bizarre scene. Almost too perfect, I think.

Then I realise that this isn't a proper ball at all. As far as I know, balls are supposed to be graceful and elegant, but there is always someone who _can't_ dance. The person who can't dance is essential for a ball otherwise the entire scene is just too perfect.

Hannah seems to realise this too because she turns to look at me again and asks "do you want to dance?"

I grin. "Yes," I say.

We both stand up and walk towards the dance floor. We stand on the edge of the dance floor and look at each other for a moment. I'm going to take a guess and say I look extremely nervous. Not about dancing with Hannah, more about the fact that I am more than likely to break her toes. By the look on her face, she's probably thinking the same thing. I grin at her and she smiles back brightly. I take one of her hands and place my other hand on her waist. Hannah puts her other hand close to my shoulder.

Slowly we begin to sway, then our feet move and we take off. I don't tread on her toes (much) and she doesn't tread on mine (much). We stumble and merge into the great, big, glittering swirl of colours and then we can't stop. I guide her as we float and glide along the rainbow with everyone else. Hannah looks up at me, her cheeks even more pink because of the dancing, and she smiles again, because she likes to smile alot and I think it's wonderful because I really like her smile. I beam at her and I can guess that she would be blushing but I just can't see it because her cheeks are already so pink. Our eyes meet for a moment.

Then we stumble and collapse to the floor. People just look at us but keep on dancing because they've been caught by the ever-moving, ever-swirling rainbow. Hannah and I look at each other and suddenly we just begin to laugh hysterically.

"I _told _you I couldn't dance," Hannah says.

"And I told _you_ I couldn't dance," I say.

We laugh and I help her up and we move back to our seats.

Dancing is a much too precise art for us.


End file.
